This summer, before the Royal Princess was appointed, Erdem Moralioglu MBE brought my fashion critic Sarah Mower MBE to an exhibition at the Whitechapel Gallery. Although I regretted missing it, I felt as if I had seen it. Two of my decorating industry colleagues told me in detail and raved about its multifaceted themes: Erin Agar, a surrealist movement specialist and cool girl of the 1940s, mingled with the likes of Lee Miller and Picasso, and was photographed dancing on rooftops during the two world wars wearing sheer dresses. Moralioglu was inspired by the experience and decided to make Agar his pre-autumn muse.
"I was fascinated by her ability to take the ordinary — the non-extraordinary — and make it extraordinary: to cut it out of a very British geranium collage and create a surreal big hand from it, or to create a weird hat, the V&A has, which is made of gloves," the designer said on a date in London, wearing the delicate dusty blue curl-up collar from his first menswear collection. "She always wore these very restrained, restrained silhouettes, but her world was very chaotic. I'm fascinated by those whose universe is in chaos when they themselves are abnormally controlled. ”
Moralioglu translates what he calls the "restrained manners" of Agar's wardrobe into shapes heavily influenced by the 1940s and fills them with the conflicting, graphic sense of her work. "The polka dots are mixed with zebra stripes and feel very upside down and beautiful. That's where I started," he said. He colored those clipped silhouettes with printed patchwork, geranium motifs, and rich sequins, crystals and pearls, and wore tough, palatial frills over unexpected dresses.
It's not as wild as it sounds—it's a pre-series, after all—but in the ladylike romanticism that underpins his work, Moralioglu makes some very grand statements. "I like to do some ideas that are almost early fall fashion. The pre-series has a sense of realism, and it's wonderful to make it part of a dream," he said, referring to the almost anti-Japanese nature of the collection. He countered these elements with tailor-made flat shoes and shot at the gravel streets of Soho, Agar's old stampede. Dresses and coats covered with habutai rosettes on silk georgette embody the contrast moralioglu wants to convey: an industrialized super-refinement. (They will go into production.) "They almost look like fur coats," he noted.
British art history is the home of Moralioglu, who knows exactly how to create the ideal recipe for such a pre-collection. But after his inauguration and September's 15th anniversary — sadly he didn't get the attention he deserved at last week's fashion awards in his hometown of London — confidence in his work has also grown, as evidenced by his clothing. In times like these, a consolation can be found in the beauty of Erdem's resilient haven: to be controlled in the midst of chaos.